You're What?
by Pikeru's Angel
Summary: Surprise, shock, or simple complacence. Everyone had a different reaction. Shohn. Fourth in the Sapphire series.


_**Mycroft Holmes**_

At the time he'd still be adjusting to the idea that his little brother was in love with someone. Not just in love with someone, but in love with a good man who would protect him and love him back. Because Sherlock had more than had his fair share of bad relationships, most of which he actually needed help out of. ("It's like a drug," he'd said despondently at the age of nineteen. "A horrible cycle. It's Mummy's fault. If she hadn't married him…" And Mycroft had walked out of the room.)

But now he'd found himself someone. Someone stable and good and just what he needed. With John Watson it was entirely possible his brother would actually hit middle aged instead of dieing before he hit thirty-five.

His men had been at the exact wrong angle to see what happened. They were under an overpass -the one where they'd had their first actual kiss in Mycroft wasn't mistaken- and exactly ten minutes after midnight they had walked out and back to the car. There was no way of knowing what they'd done.

Until Mycroft came by two days later, imploring his younger brother to take a case for him. He'd maintained steady eye contact which Sherlock seemed to break every few seconds. He'd always glance down at his left hand. It took far longer than it should have for Mycroft to figure it out.

He'd blinked, gaping slightly at the simple diamond and sapphire band on his brother's ring finger. It was the only time one could say he'd been speechless.

"You're… that's a wedding band." He'd said intelligently. Sherlock gave him a withering look, fiddling with the ring.

"Engagement ring, brother. Do you honestly think it would take two days to plan a wedding? Either that or your people are slipping."

Mycroft blinked again, slowly standing up. "When?" Because, no matter how much Sherlock protested, he would not miss his own brother's wedding. Sherlock sighed in resignation.

"You will know as soon as we do. Some time this spring or early summer, according to John." Mycroft nodded, making his way to the door before pausing.

"Congratulations, Sherlock."

With a smirk, Sherlock nodded, taking his violin from it's spot beside the chair.

"Thank you, Mycroft."

_**Harry Watson**_

She found out through her brother's blog. The _blog_ for God's sake! She would have thought they were closer than that! But they weren't. They really, truly weren't. They'd never got on, not even as kids, and certainly not as adults. No, the only day they could even sit in a room together without fighting about something was New Year's Eve. And even then it was a bit hit and miss now.

So, maybe a week after the New Year began, she checked up on the blog. A new entry, with a picture. Of him and Sherlock, of course. Head shots, with John's left arm lung over the shoulder of his rather embarrassed looking boyfriend. The ring on his finger was clearly visible.

She'd called, pestered, and texted for the rest of the day until she finally got a rather begrudging reply.

**Yes, Harry, you can come to the wedding. No alcohol though.**

**-JW**

It was good enough.

_**Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade**_

There had been a poll on when the two of them would get together. Lowest bet at six months or less, highest at never. Only one person thought that six months or less was actually a good idea, and that was Gregory Lestrade. He'd figured it would be John to instigate, probably after a near-death experience (and there were a lot of those), and he'd end up kissing Sherlock in his euphoria. He was surprised that it was all thanks to an impatient cabbie, but please none the less. It was about damn time, after watching the two of them.

He was, however, surprised when they got engaged six months after they started dating.

It was about a week after New Year's Eve. Lestrade called up, asking John if he wanted to go have a pint like they did every once in a while. They met at a local pub that was just between Baker Street and the Yard. They'd been talking for an hour when Lestrade noticed the ring around John's ring finger.

"When's the big day?" He asked casually, taking a sip from his beer.

John splutted, putting a hand over his mouth as his shot nearly dropped from his hand. "W-what?"

Lestrade motioned to his friends left hand smoothly. "Engagement ring. Did you ask him or the other way around?"

"I-I asked him." John said, still trying to recover.

"Lovely. I assume you've picked out a best man?" He raised an eyebrow in a completely mock-serious manner.

The younger man just rolled his eyes. "Obviously.

_**Mike Anderson**_

Not surprising in the slightest. He'd set up the bet on when, exactly the freak would get together with the good doctor. More out of boredom and a way to make a few pounds than anything else, really. And he'd lost. Miserably. He had two years at the least. Nope, just barely four months. And then he was an idiot and put up another bet on when they'd be getting married. One year or more.

Nope. Wrong again.

Sic months. It took them six months to get engaged. And, just like last time, all of the betting money went to Lestrade.

What was worse was that there was another poll on when Anderson would be getting a divorce. And almost everyone was right.

_**Molly Hooper**_

Sherlock was an unattainable.

Molly had decided this long ago. After one attempt to ask him out for coffee too many, she decided it was a bit pointless. She still asked, of course. If only to keep up appearances. Sherlock would have been suspicious if she suddenly stopped, after all. But she moved on. Quite successfully, really. Dates every other Thursday night, really.

When Sherlock came in next her eyes zoomed in on the ring. And she smiled at him, and took the jar of eyes back, and gave a meek little congrats as she glanced at the silver band again. Sherlock nodded, and left. And as he paused at the door she could swear she heard him mutter something about chances and sorry.

She passed it off as her imagination.

_**Sally Donavan**_

Unsurprising that she joined the polls that Anderson made up in his coffee breaks. They were fun little ways to waste time when there wasn't anything going on.

She nearly won the first bet. She went for one year plus. Damn Lestrade for his accuracy.

The second one she put in a crap bet. One to one-and-a-half years before either of them proposed. Wrong on that one too, but she wasn't really expecting anything. She only put in twenty pounds anyway.

_**Jim Moriarty**_

Sherlock was like his little toy. A good cure for boredom, but at any other time tossed aside. He allowed his toy to have his pet - John Watson. He allowed them to get together, because that gave him leverage in the end. He could use that little dog to gain control.

They got closer and closer and it slowly started to grate on his nerves. Listening to that imbecile play with _his_ toy. Eventually he saw Johnny-boy pick out the ring. That perfect, perfect ring that suited Sherlock so well.

He decided to let his toy keep that too, once it was given.

But then he found out it was an engagement ring. Now it was time for Johnny-boy to be gotten rid of.

Jim never was good at sharing his toys.

_**Mrs. Hudson**_

She always knew. Right from the start, she knew. Sherlock was going the extra step to try and keep John around. John was going around with Sherlock on his cases. Enjoying them, even. It wasn't decent, enjoying a murder like that, but she still smiled when she read one she knew Sherlock would like solving in the paper.

The two of them made such a cute couple when they finally did acknowledge their feeling. She was hardly surprised when John said that they'd finally kissed. In a cab and by a freak accident, mind, but to the very least it happened.

And when she came up one day to talk to John and found her lodger looking at tuxedo rentals, she asked why. John blushed, asking her if she'd care for a cuppa as he closed out the tab.

She just smiled, and asked how she could help with the wedding plans.


End file.
